


Minions Wanted

by broadcastdelay



Category: Spliced (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadcastdelay/pseuds/broadcastdelay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smarty Smarts tries, yet again, to outsource some of his less-glamorous villainous duties. He also decides to run for mayor. These things, though not directly related, have approximately equal success rates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minions Wanted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [credoimprobus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/credoimprobus/gifts).



“I need more sidekicks!” Smarty Smarts declared to Octocat.

“ _Me-ow-w?_ ”

“No, no, no! Of _course_ you’re enough for me! I’m just saying—more minions! We would have more free time, again, if we could designate the island-takeover plans of doom to the other minions. More time for _us._ ”

“ _Meee-ow.”_

“But where to get them? Every time we brainwash people, they always wake back up again!”

“Me- _owwwwwwww.”_

“Yes, I know that one time was my fault, and you were just trying to do something nice for me. I _said_ I was sorry.”

“Mraaaow.”

“Of course! The classifieds! But wait—does the island have a newspaper?”

 

 

Ostork, a tall purple creature whose origins were at least half-rooted in the noble lines of the ostrich, and at least half locked away in the far-off mind of the Doctor, looked mournfully at his subscription data, and at his advertiser list, each of which had been steadily dwindling, ever since Two-Legs Joe accidentally stomped on his printing press and he’d been forced to print manually, using die he carved from coconut shells (an irritatingly absorbent medium).

For years, the only thing keeping him in the red had been Patricia’s subsidy to ensure the publication of her bi-weekly feature, _Island Adventures,_ a serial work of fiction whose characters and settings often seemed strangely familiar.

Then, at the door, there was a jangle. A hunched woman in purple and pearls entered, looking around shiftily.

“Ahem,” the figure said. “Are you in charge of the newspaper?”

“Yes,” Ostork replied, calculating the probability that this woman owned a local business she wished to promote (low).

“Do you print classified ads?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, _ex_ cellent. I have one here, then.” And with a strange chirping noise, the figure deposited a slip of paper on top of the mound of papers already covering Ostork’s desk, and was gone.

“But—“ Ostork protested weakly, to an empty room. “You forgot to pay.”

Ostork shook his head sadly at his budget sheets, pulled out a new coconut shell, and began carving.

 _Boom!_ came the sound of an explosion from the street, followed by panicked screams and a minor stampede. Ostork went on placidly. He had long since learned that the price of Main Street storefront was semiweekly destruction and mayhem.

 

 

The weekly issue of the Courier-Times-Post-Gazette-Tribune featured, below a news story about the recent chaos caused by Peri and Entrée’s bet as to who could spit pumpkin seeds the farthest (which had escalated into a competition as to who could spit pumpkins the farthest, which had resulted in the severe destruction of property, a sprained jaw for Peri, and the loss of an eye for an unnamed bystander), was Patricia’s regular installment. On the back of the broadsheet, however, was the Courier-Times-Post-Gazette-Tribune’s first ever classified ad.

 

> _Wanted: Spineless Minions. Must be willing to commit Acts of Evil._
> 
> _Some specializations may include (but are not limited to) Librarian for the Library of Evil; Non-Burnt Toast Maker; Obliterator of Free Will; Froster of Octocupcakes. Benefits include octocupcakes, all-you-can-eat mayonnaise, and immunity from Acts of Evil. Those interested should report to Mr. Smarty Smarts’ lair ASAP._

Smarty Smarts, the newest subscriber of the Courier-Times-Post-Gazette-Tribune (albeit one who planned on cancelling his subscription as soon as his ad had run its course), clapped his fins together with glee as he painstakingly read the ad out loud.

“Today’s the day, Octocat!” he declared, breaking off into a series of villainous chirping.

“Mrrrrrrrow.”

“Yes, I _know_ that’s not how you pronounce _obliterator_! I was just testing you!”

 

__

“Hey, Entrée, look at this! It’s a job ad!”

“Uh, why would anyone want a _job_?”

“We could earn _ben-e-fits._ Like cupcakes, and unlimited mayonnaise.”

“Did you say _mayonnaise?_ ”

“Uh-huh. That’s kind of a funny benefit, huh? I wonder who thinks of these things.”

“Who cares, Peri? _Mayonnaise!”_ Entrée grabbed Peri’s ear and began pulling him along.

When they arrived, Smarty Smarts surveyed his two applicants with some distaste. “Isn’t there anyone _else?_ ” he asked. “Waiting outside behind you, perhaps?”

“Nope. Just us!” said Peri cheerfully.

“I think there might have been a crab, but I stepped on him,” Entrée said. “He’s probably dead now.”

Smarty Smarts sighed wearily. “How can _these_ be my only options for minions?” he asked Octocat tremulously.

“Meeeereeow,” Octocat commiserated. “Mee-ree-ow.”

Smarty Smarts faced forward, pasted a smile on, and said with forced cheer, “Congratulations! You two have just been approved as this year’s minion interns!”

“Woo-hoo!” said Entrée. “Start the mayonnaise comin’.”

Smarty Smarts tried to control his wince, but considering that his recoil had knocked over his plasma-propelled gardener-bot, he didn’t think it was particularly successful.

 

 

“Your first duty as minions,” Smarty-Smarts declared, “is to stuff these envelopes.”

“OK!” said Peri.

“Ugh, bo-ring,” said Entrée. “And there’s, like, hundreds of them.”

“Start stuffing!” Smarty-Smarts decreed.

 

 

 “So, uh, what are we stuffing these envelopes with, anyways?” Peri asked.

“Campaign fliers!” Smarty-Smarts cackled.

“Campaign fliers for what?”

“For mayor!”

“Why are you helping Two-Legs Joe?”

“Why am I—I’m not _helping_ that buffoon, I’m going to _defeat_ him!”

“Wait, _you’re_ running for mayor? But Two-Legs Joe has _always_ been mayor!”

“That’s why it’s time for a change! As you’ll see in my slogan: ‘Do the Smarty Smarts Thing: It’s Time for a Change.’”

“Gee, that’s…catchy.”

“I don’t get it,” Entrée interrupted. “How is change smart? Change is dumb.”

“Just keep stuffing! And eat—more— _mayonnaise!”_

Smarty Smarts was gratified to see that his new minion obeyed. Half of the command, at least.

“ _And how’s this for change?”_ Smarty Smarts cackled, sotto voce, to Octocat as he left his sub-minions to their task. “ _Once I’m elected, I’ll change my title—by mayoral decree, of course—to Mayor-for-Life. They’ll never get rid of me!”_

“Mrrrr-ah- _owwwww_ ,” Octocat chided, but Smarty Smarts was too lost in dreams of his upcoming coup to take heed.

A room away, Peri wondered if the muffled chirp-cackles he could hear through the wall were a typical affectation of political candidates. He tried to avoid campaign commercials, so he wasn’t sure, but it sounded a little bit creepy.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing this, Entrée,” Peri said hesitantly. “Doesn’t it seem a little bit… _wrong_?”

Entrée swiped his tongue around the edges of a jar of mayonnaise before tossing the empty jar on a pile of others. “Or is it so wrong it’s doubled-back to being right again?”

Peri’s eyes crossed. “I don’t think so, Entrée.”

“But are you _sure?”_

“….no.”

“Then hand me another jar of mayonnaise.”

 

 “Everyone understand your instructions, then?” Smarty Smarts asked, sounding for all the world like the benevolent mother figure he occasionally dressed as.

“I dunno. I thought we were only allowed to vote once,” Peri said.

“ _Regular_ citizens only vote once,” Smarty Smarts corrected. “ _Minions_ vote as many times as their masters tell them to!”

“Then why do we have to wear all these different costumes?”

“It’s part of the _game!”_

Peri opened his mouth to protest further, but Entrée grabbed his arm. “Look, Peri, a _factory-certified_ _genuine Yeti costume.”_

 

__

Patricia emerged from the town hall, looking down at her tally sheet with a frown. “We-ell,” she said, “It looks like we have a pretty clear winner. But gee, I didn’t know we had this many creatures on Keep Away Island! So, Mayor Smarty Smarts, I guess your first order of business should be a new census.”

The brass band, which had been threatened by Two-Legs Joe into coming to provide a burst of fanfare upon his victory announcement, let out one stray trumpet squawk before looking at each other uneasily.

 “Actually,” Smarty Smarts declared, wresting the microphone from Patricia, “my first order of business as your Mayor—“

“ _Mrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaa-ow,”_ Octocat whimpered, hiding her head in her tentacles.

“…is to proclaim myself Mayor-for-Life!”

“What! Hey, you can’t do that!” Patricia squawked, her voice rising above the mutants’ disgruntled murmurs.

“I’m the _Mayor—_ I mean, the Mayor-for-Life! I can do anything that I want!”

“Actually,” Two-Legs Joe rumbled, “you can’t.”

“I…can’t?”

“It’s in the island’s charter!” Patricia sighed loudly. “Which you swore an oath to uphold when you registered as a candidate.”

“Heh,” said Smarty Smarts. “Right, that. Just joking! Just a joke from your new Mayor, trying to be funny and approachable! As I am!”

At that opportune moment, Entrée waddled down the street in his Yeti costume, humming to himself a song which in his head went, _I am Yeti, fear me greatly. Ho-hum, ho-ha, ho-hee_.

“Yeti!” screamed one of the townsmutants.

“Yeti!” echoed the crowd, dispersing into a stampede.

Entrée looked at the dust, the empty space, and Peri and Smarty Smarts, who, not having fled, had been somewhat downtrodden.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?” Entrée asked. “I don’t smell bad. I mean—“ he took a brief sniff, “well, not _that_ bad.”

Two-Legs Joe led the townsmutants as they crept back into the square. “Entrée? Is that really you? Why are you—“

“Oh, hey, isn’t this costume great? Smarty Smarts got it for me”—and here Entrée bulldozed over Smarty Smarts’ urgent pantomiming of beheading and slicing and ceasing-and-desisting—“since he’s, like, my new minion-master or whatever. Hey, did he win? I sure hope so, because that was a lot of writing, and the other costumes weren’t nearly as fun as this one.”

“What… _other_ costumes?” Two-Legs Joe growled out.

All eyes turned to Smarty Smarts, who was backing away slowly and attempting to hold a conciliatory smile upon his face.

“Why, you—“ Joe roared.

“Hey now, no need for violence,” Patricia said, “but in light of recent evidence of voter fraud, I hereby declare Mr. Smarty Smarts’ election forfeited, and Two-Legs Joe, the runner-up, your official new mayor.”

Shortly thereafter, a much-defeated Smarty Smarts, bearing the scars of unnecessary violence, licked his wounds back at his lair, and lit into his minions. “You’re _disgraceful!”_ he cried. “ _Incompetent. Unseemly. Intransigent. Idiotic._ You’re—you’re _fired!”  
_

“Eh, whatever,” Entrée said. “C’mon, Peri, let’s go play some bucket-stick fruitball.”

Once they’d left the cave, Smarty Smart sunk into himself. “Oh, Octocat,” he wailed. “How did it all go so wrong?”

“ _Mrrrrr,”_ purred Octocat comfortingly. “ _Mrr_ ow.”

“At least I’ve still got you, Octocat,” Smarty Smart said tearily. “You and me, against the world.”

She meowed in solidarity.

And when he turned to begin work on his next project, she curled up and smiled smugly to herself, the only minion he’d ever need.

**Author's Note:**

> Credoimprobus: I'd never dreamed of writing fanfic for _Spliced_ until I saw your prompt, and then I couldn't get it out of my head. Hope you enjoy! Also--in the end I couldn’t do it, but I offer you, regardless, the summaries that resulted when I tried to brainstorm what Spliced!porn might look like (it wasn’t pretty):  
>  -Entrée can do (and has done) just about anything with his tongue, from turning on the television to rearranging his furniture. Peri’s not sure why, then, it surprises him when one day he wakes up to Entrée demonstrating an entirely new use for it.  
> -Ed always knew that the punishment awaiting him at the hands of the Brotherhood of the Furry Flipper for failing to deter Entrée would not be a pleasant one. Yet somehow, midway through the penitential ritual, he decided…perhaps he liked this body after all.  
> -Two-Legs Joe could never resent Wingus—he was a part of him; they completed each other. But having a symbiotic bird attached to his butt was putting a definite damper on his love life. Until one day he met Three-Legs Angela and she cocked her head at Wingus and said, “Hey, does he watch?”


End file.
